Spring has come.

Spring in the south may not hold quite the symbolic renewal it does in the North. There's no heraldic return of the first bird, no breathless waiting for snow to melt. Many of our trees melt from green to green as new growth pushes out the old. Our winters aren't harsh or long enough to make us truly miss the hot weather and wish for its return.

But the season does have its own glories here. Azaleas, riotous colors in February. Crape Myrtles, lifting their tiers of flowers like girls in ridiculously frilled skirts, lining every road. Honeysuckle and roses, magnolias and camellias. And Easter. I suppose it's not quite the same for those below the equator, but I do find it appropriate that for us, at least, the Resurrection is celebrated at a time of rebirth and renewal.

Speaking of birth...

 

She arrived on April 4, a successful induction and a peaceful, healing birth. Her name, loosely translated, means "spark unto a new day", a symbolic name for an April baby whose birthday will always fall close to Easter. We hadn't considered this when we were choosing it, but I am pleased to take it as confirmation that we chose well.

At 10 lbs 5 oz, she will have little need for the newborn clothes everyone gave me against my advice, but I am pleased to show that she fits perfectly into the family heirloom daygown my mother passed on to me during her visit. This handmade gown was gifted to my grandmother upon my mom's birth, probably worn by most of her siblings, and then wrapped me and my sister. It is now on its third generation.

I want a dozen more. Gowns, not babies. Although the newborn smell is an addictive drug, this is my last fix. I'm trying to make the most of it.

In accordance with my policy of No Real Names on this blog, she will be hereafter be known here as Spring.

Which may become my favorite season.